Black Widow X Reader Smut - Blog Posts

it’s you i’m thinking of

you spend your first christmas away from your girlfriend, and the older woman has a bad habit of teasing the fuck outta you

warnings: older!nat x younger!shy!innocent!reader, age gap relationships, phone sex, guided masturbation, and not proofreading.

merry christmas and happy holidays everyone! 🎄

With the phone against your ear, you attempted to keep your focus situated on the movie that was playing on your TV. Home Alone, the movie playing, a sort of homage to you and your girlfriend’s favourite movie and the redhead’s current holiday situation.

Through the speaker, your phone rang once, twice, then thrice before Natasha picked up. With her voice soft and gentle, you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. Your whole face aching with glee as you listened to your girlfriend greet you in tow.

“Hey, baby.”

You bit your lip in suppressing a smirk. Instead, you dawned your focus as you twirled the strings of your sweatpants around a finger.

“Hi, Tasha, how are you?”

“Good. I just woke up from a nap.” She hummed in content, slumber evident in her tone as she sounded every bit sultry and rough.

You frowned at the revelation. “Oh, I hope I didn’t wake you up. I’m sorry, Natty...”

Almost as if you could visualize it, the shake of her head as she sat up straight against her bed, you heard the creaking noise as Natasha rose up.

“You didn’t, baby. You’re okay. I’ve been napping for like three hours now. You were perfect timing.” You could hear the grin on her lips by her tone and in tow, it had you smiling to yourself like a nearly sane person.

But when the echo of your TV made the loneliness all too real, a frown lined your lips in return. You couldn’t help but sigh audibly against the phone, your guilt and shame wrecking through you despite Natasha’s words.

“I wish I could be there with you. Christmas isn’t the same without you here, Tasha.”

“I know, baby,” the redhead shared the same disappointment present in your tone, and while the situation was way out of your control, your feelings of misery was still ever present for the both of you. “I wish I was beside you right now. I’ve been stuck with Stark and his annoying ass family. I just want to hear your voice.”

You nodded at her words, smiling to yourself as you unconsciously watched the movie play on. Your lips widened at the thought and you almost couldn’t wait to tell Natasha about your day.

“I thought about you today, Natty.”

“Mmh, yeah? What about?”

The implication was present in her tone and the way your girlfriend’s voice fell like sweet, frozen honey made your legs clench together and body shiver in need.

You licked your lips just as you did, trying to pursue the facade you had, resisting Natasha and her lustful advances, but however much you did, the older woman was a hot redhead that everyone coveted.

With striking silken red hair, and creamy pale skin that reached over the miles of her legs, she was the catch everyone wanted. Both men and women, you were somehow lucky enough to have the older woman all to yourself.

“I-Um... It was a silly idea. I don’t think it’s appropriate.” You shook your head at the reminded thought. The idea motivated by lust, and in the evident unfulfilled needs from your girlfriend.

And now, the older woman had your cheeks warm in embarrassment and legs pressed together as attempted to coax the thought from you.

“Nothing is inappropriate when it comes to me. Cmon, tell me. I’m curious to what little naughty thoughts go on in that pretty head of yours, baby.”

You huffed, eyes up to the ceiling of your childhood bedroom before you were hesitant to speak your truth.

“I don’t know, I thought it would be a good idea. I thought I looked good today—”

“Oh, I bet you did, sweetheart.”

“Tasha...”

Natasha laughed across the phone, her chuckle loud as she found pleasure in teasing you on and on without remorse. “I’m sorry, baby. Continue.”

“I thought I looked good today. So, I don’t know, I wanted to send you an inappropriate photo.”

Natasha grinned at your words, but the game of teasing you has been so fun, she just couldn’t let it go. She was hoping your cheeks were just firing up the way it did when she teased you.

“A what photo?”

She heard you sigh through the phone, evidently embarrassed and quite obvious to what Natasha was asking.

“You know, those kinds of photo.”

Natasha hummed in faux query, feigning oblivion to your implications of photos.

“Oh, I’m not quite sure what those enquire, my love.”

A groan vibrated through the call, your frustrations evident as you spoke. “You know what I mean, Natty. You know? Nudes. Pictures of me... naked, I think.”

“You think?”

Your eyes shut close, the embarrassment rushing through your veins as you silently kick your feet against your bed.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never sent pictures of myself like that before, I guess. It was just me topless. Nothing special.”

Natasha laughs at your words, the innocence and timidity of your tone. She’s ever wondered how you even found your way through such harsh world. The older woman ever nearly feels bad for her own seniority over you.

A woman like her, nearing late thirties, she shook her head of the thoughts and smiled at your coyness. She didn’t need that negativity mixed with all the frustration present in both of your lives.

Instead, Natasha called your name softly and caught your attention. “Did you send it, sweetheart?”

You shook your head at her question, only for the realization to settle in that she wasn’t able to see you at all.

“No, I thought it would’ve distracted you at work.”

The redhead chuckled once again and it had your cheeks firing up in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sure that your tiny little body would’ve been a distraction.” Natasha paused for a moment as she settled into the silence. “Can I see the photo?”

Your eyes widened and lips parted at her question, surprised that she actually wanted to see it. Granted, your girlfriend hasn’t had much sex with you ever since the holidays and now that the both of you were away from each other for the first time, your needs grew and so did the older woman’s.

“I deleted it, Natty. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would actually want—”

“Don’t apologize, my love.” You smiled at her words and fell deeper into your pillow. “Can you turn on your camera for me?”

You scrambled to hold your phone properly, with Natasha on speaker, you attempted to find the button to switch it to FaceTime. When you did and the screen loaded, you were greeted by the face of your lovely lover.

“There you are, baby.” Natasha’s smile was still ever so vibrant despite the din lighting of her bedroom. Only a part of her face was slightly illuminated, you guessed that she had a lamp on, ever so faint and dim, you could still see every freckle on her pale face.

“Hi, Natty. I’ve missed you.”

You grinned giddily at your girlfriend, bottom lip rolled between teeth, while you practically bat your lashes at her.

“You look pretty like this, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at her compliment. Natasha had always been your number one supporter no matter what. You suppose that’s what you adored about her, her presence, and her wonderful elegance even when she drew the spotlight onto you.

“You can’t even see me properly.”

She hummed in disagreement. “I think your fairy lights are doing a great job of illuminating your face.”

With a giggle, you buried your face into your duvet. Natasha on the other end was grinning from ear to ear as she watched the whole thing play, her chest beating out of her chest at the sight of you.

“What’re you doing right now, baby?”

You watched her adjust herself on her bed, then reach for something out of frame. When she returned, there was a glass in front of her as she took a generous sip of red wine.

“Just layin in bed. Y’know, talking to you.”

“Alone, I hope?”

You bit your lip in tow to her question. The implication present in your girlfriend’s tone making your cheeks heat up. But softly, you spoke.

“Everyone’s asleep.”

You heard her set the glass of wine down. The sound of rustling echoing through your earbuds as Natasha moves against her bedsheets.

“That’s good, baby,” you watched as her tongue made an appearance and lick her lips, her green eyes were so oddly prominent you couldn’t help but be intimidated. “Can you do me a favour? Just for tonight? You can say no if you don’t want to.”

“Anything, Natty.”

Her smile widened and you watched in anticipation for her next request.

“Can you touch yourself for me tonight?”

You froze in your bed, eyes wide and cheeks hot and fiery to the touch. It was so undeniably silent that even Natasha froze in doubt.

When you swallowed your shame and found the voice to speak, you looked at your girlfriend through your phone in embarrassment.

“You know I always touch myself because of you.”

Natasha’s smile was evident and almost laughable when she realize that you weren’t understanding what she had been asking.

The redhead bit her cherry stained lips and shook her head with a chuckle. “Can you touch yourself for me through the phone? Thinking of me just as always?”

“Natty...”

She saw the embarrassment on your face and she shook her head in disagreement. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, sweetheart. I can always wait for when you get back from the holidays.”

“No, it’s just that,” you turned away from the phone with a pursed lip, “I— I’ve never done anything... like that before.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Natasha smile encouragingly at you and your features softened at her face, “You want me to help you?”

You nodded meekly, shy and filled with guilt.

Natasha hummed, her lips wide with a grin as she moved around her bed to her comfortable. You were already aching in need and Natasha could tell with the way you nervously bit your lip in anticipation for her response.

“Can you put your hand under your shorts?”

“Okay...”

Nervously, you parted your legs, just as Natasha watched through the screen, you sighed a shaky breath when you felt yourself soaking through your panties.

“Do you feel yourself, baby?”

You nodded with your bottom lip stuck between teeth. “It’s sticky down there.”

Natasha couldn’t help but blush at your response. Despite being older and being experienced, your shy response has the older woman blushing with excitement. The idea that you’re greatly starved has her core shaking and aching for relief.

“You’re wet, baby.” She hummed softly, “Do I make you wet, honey?”

You nodded.

“I need you here so bad, Natty. I miss you.”

“Oh, baby,” the older woman threw her head back with a frown, with her neck exposed to the camera, you hissed at the sight and whined with lust, “I miss you so much more. God, those videos of you aren’t enough anymore.”

Breathless, you spoke with a grin. “I suppose we can always make more?”

“Fuck me,” Natasha clicked her tongue when she shook her head. Her eyes went dark and you giggled at her reaction. “You’re going to get me in so much trouble with this phone bill, aren’t you?”

Playfully, you frowned. “I supposed you don’t want to see me like this anymore?” Natasha watched as you sat the phone up against a pillow, her view is now of that between your legs with your hand buried deep into your shorts.

With the straps of your tiny camisole and despite the shitty fairy lights that illuminated your room, she could see the way your perked nipples pressed against the cotton top.

“Goddamnit, baby.” The redhead shook her head with a sigh, while you licked your lip as your hand sawed back and forth under your shorts.

You could tell Natasha was getting inpatient with the way a scowl presented itself on her face and she made sure to voice it as she adjusted herself once more on her bed.

“Take your shorts off, princess. I want to see this sweet pussy.”

Your cheeks flush warm at her words, considering your girlfriend has never been this vocal about such sexual behaviour as she knew your lack of experience and such shyness, the word fell like curses.

Nevertheless, you followed her demands and lifted your bottoms off the bed just enough to slip the shorts off. Teasingly, you left yourself in your panties and kept your legs parted so your girlfriend could see the prominent wet spot on where you touched yourself.

“I said take it off, baby.”

You gave your girlfriend a frown. “I’m shy, Natty.”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

With a whine, you followed her demands. Your slender fingers hooked itself underneath the band of your underwear before you tugged them off gently from your legs.

But you kept your legs closed in embarrassment, ever so prominent in the way you fluttered and batted your lashes.

“My shy little girl,” you smiled at Natasha’s words. “Look how wet you are, baby, and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

With a nod, you sighed and threw your head in pure lust. To say you missed your girlfriend was an understatement. You craved her so much that the simple thought of her kissing you, holding your hand, or merely pecking your cheek had your head in a daze.

“All for you, Natty...”

Subconsciously, your own hand travelled between your legs, and as it did, your body danced to its own accord and parted your legs in tow for your wandering hand.

Natasha’s hum vibrated against the phone when she watched you slip your delicate fingers between sodden lips. Your cunt deliciously parted with it wetting the length of your finger, and you felt the wetness of it just under the pads of your finger.

Just as softly, you circled your clit, that swollen little thing, right under your fingertips as you swirled your hand with a sigh.

The room was undeniably quiet and you knew that Natasha was touching herself just as much as you were. While tipsy on the red wine she was drinking, you knew your absence was affecting her much more.

Her whimper flooded your ears and it challenged you to quicken your own pace. You watched as Natasha settled her phone on her nightstand, and as she did, you were now able to see the upper half of her body laid against her bed. Her tank top pushed up just enough that you could see the curves of her breasts and the tone muscles of her abs, all the while she had her own hand buried under her shorts.

“Natty...”

Even out of the frame, you knew she had that gentle smile on her lips as she spoke back to your call.

“I’m here, baby,” you sighed at her voice, “keep touching your pussy for mommy, keep going, hon.”

You fastened your pace and as you did, a whiny moan left your lips. Your sawing hand was sloppy and careless and even despite it all, Natasha was enjoying the view of you rubbing yourself for her.

She merely imagine it was her hand that was doing the job, the only thing is, she would’ve probably shoved her fingers inside of your drooling cunt minutes before. She was an impatient thing and as she called for your name in the heat of the moment, she knew what she wanted from you next.

“Shove your fingers inside, baby.”

You froze in place and your legs clenched on instinct. You even looked at the camera as if she could see you. “What?”

“Pretend it’s my fingers. Just think of me.”

A giggle fell from you as you shook your head.

“It’s always you I’m thinking of.”

She hummed. “Cmon, darling. I wanna see you fill your cunt. Stretch it out for me before I come back, yeah?”

“Okay...”

Both cautiously and hesitantly, with a lip between teeth, your fingers dropped and travelled south. Between your wetness and your arousal, you teased your entrance for show for your girlfriend.

The sight made her groan as her hand worked faster. You whimper when you slipped that first finger inside, despite delicate and thin fingers, you were tight just the way your girlfriend liked it.

“Natty,” your desperate call for your girlfriend let her know you were close, and with the way Natasha knew you, she was more than well aware just she mimicked your actions.

“I know, baby,” her chest heaved in tow, “I want you to come for me, okay? Fuck yourself harder, cmon.”

You threw your head back and with a quickened pace, you reached your high with a squeal leaving your lips. Natasha’s end was any better, the woman was heaving in response, and as the two of you finished in sync, the both of you moaned for each other’s presence.

“Natty, it’s too much.”

Just as Natasha’s hand slowed down to a stop, she sighed when she pulled her hand and sodden fingers out from her shorts. She knew you were watching and when she neared the camera and licked her saturated finger, she heard your whimper.

“You did so well for me, baby.” She took the phone back into her hand and laid comfortably against the headboard. “‘S alright now, baby. You can relax.”

When you did, all the while laid on your bed naked, you smiled rather lazily when you took back the phone. Your lover was looking back at you with reddened cheeks and the embarrassment settled in to your bones when you realized what you had just done.

“We just did that...”

Natasha grinned.

“Mmh, and you were so good for me, baby.”

“Natty... Don’t say things like that.”

The redhead shrugged. “I’m just stating facts. Although, I will need to see the live action version when I do come back.”

“You’re insatiable, Natty.”

“Only for you, my love.”

“I must be special then.”

Natasha nodded. “Oh, yes. Very.”

You both shared a grin which yours softly became a smile. The silence was comforting as the two of you stared at each other until someone broke the ice.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

Your eyes twinkled when you looked up and saw the clock on your wall strike the twelve. You turned back to Natasha with a glimmer in your gaze. Even despite the time difference and that it had been Christmas for her three hours ago, you were in awe at how your girlfriend made you all goey.

“Merry Christmas, Natty,” you sunk your head down into your pillow and purred her name, “I love you.”

Natasha’s lip twitched. “I love you most.”

Peacefully, your eyes carefully fluttered closed. Natasha then knew it was time for her to give you your rest, no matter how much longer she wanted to speak to you, the sight of you sleeping wonderfully set her heart ablaze.

“See you soon, baby.”

yk when schools had to be online due to covid and lessons were conducted through zoom? heres my idea related to that:

r teasing prof!nat while nat is having a call w her students, how wld nat react?

I'm combining these, hope that's okay! <3

warnings: spanking, choking, strap on use, fingering (r receiving), edging, crying, smut 18+ only, unedited

thank you for 2.5k | nat drabbles

You and Natasha had rules. Rules that you were supposed to follow so she wasn't reprimanded for dating one of her students. One of these rules is that when you were at her house, which now was extremely often since lockdown started, you'd attend her class from a different room, preferably her bedroom. This was because she'd never teach in there and it was soundproof, so if you were to unmute nobody would even guess you were in the same house.

And you wouldn't communicate while you were in class. She still needed to be fair, she wasn't going to give you any special treatment during class hours. But the lecture today seemed to drag on longer than usual, and you were getting bored. Natasha had put the class into breakout rooms to discuss... something. All you wanted was for class to be over already.

You sighed as no one in your breakout room seemed to be interested in participating in a discussion and you silently thanked the universe. You were bored, but not enough to contribute to a class discussion.

Your mind soon started wandering to Natasha as you eyed your reflection in the mirror adjacent to the bed. Your fingers ran over the bruises on your neck, you admired them through the reflection as a smirk appeared on your face when the idea popped into your head.

You discarded the sweater you were wearing, leaving you in your underwear. You threw your laptop to the end of the bed, resting your head on your arm as you propped your ass in the air, your back arching beautifully. You snapped the picture, knowing you'd get some reaction out of Natasha.

Should I give them a show prof?

img_3472.png

Natasha's jaw clenched when she saw your message, her eyes locked onto her phone screen as everyone joined the main room again. You smirked when you saw her face lit up by her phone screen a second before she turned back to the class, her jaw set. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as she started lecturing again like nothing ever happened.

You huffed, tapping your chin trying to think of other ways to catch her attention. You already broke one rule, there was no point in trying to be good for the rest of the day. You made your way to the doorway, leaving your laptop on the bed, open to the lecture but on mute, so you wouldn't make any noise on her end.

You softly closed the door behind you, quietly making your way down the hallway to her office door. You knew her camera faced away from the door, the only thing visible behind her being her bookshelf. Your fingers trembled as you touched the cool metal of the door handle, it's now or never.

You twisted the knob and opened the door quietly, leaning against the doorframe and crossing your arms. A small pout made its way onto your lips, Natasha’s eyes moving towards you for a split second before she focused back on the screen, expression unwavering. She continue lecturing, your eyes narrowing as you pushed yourself off the doorframe. You took determined steps towards her table, her hands flattening against her desk in warning.

You smirked, getting on your hands and knees and crawling forward under her desk. You settled between her legs, your hands slowly running up her thighs and under her skirt. You listened to her voice, still unchanging as you continued your movements, determined to make her give you attention.

It wasn’t until you started pressing your lips against her inner thigh that her hand came down to push on your shoulder. You pressed forward against her hold, teeth grazing against her skin. She hissed mid sentence, pausing to look down at you with fire in her eyes. Both from anger and from how turned on she already was, your favorite combo.

“Sorry guys, my cat is just being extra needy today,” She pushed tow fingers past your lips and gripped your jaw, pushing you away. You had to hold back a whine, deciding instead to hollow out your cheeks and properly suck on her fingers. She spared a glance at you before taking her fingers out, moving her hand to firmly grip your jaw so hard it could form bruises. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together, you knew better than to grip her forearm, but your hands were still on her thighs, and she only hand one hand to stop you. Your hands slid over her smooth skin, gently squeezing as you continued moving up her thighs. Her grip tightened, eyes glancing down at the clock and noticing she could wrap class up without alerting anyone. 

She quickly talked about her last couple slides before finally getting to her last one, just as your fingers reached her underwear. You scooted closer to her, making her open her legs wider. 

“Let’s wrap it up here today, make sure to read the textbook chapter assigned for next week,” You knew she usually stayed after class for questions, but your didn’t feel like waiting. Your fingers pushed her underwear aside and slid through her folds, a small grin forming when you noticed how wet she already was. “I won’t be able to stay after class, my cat just got into something she wasn’t supposed to. I’ll see you guys next week.”

Natasha frantically ended the call and slammed her laptop shut, scooting away from her desk and pulling you up by your jaw, making you release a whiny moan. She turned you around and bent you over her desk, fingers hooking under the hem of your underwear before snapping it back against your skin.

“What did I tell you about not distracting Mommy while I’m at work?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, moving your hips back against her, longing for contact. She pulled back and gripped your hips, the hard smack echoing around the room. “Are you too much of a dumb little slut to remember the rules?”

Her fingers slid over your underwear, pushing down right where you needed her. You whimpered, moving your hands to behind your back for her to grip onto. “I just wanted to play with you, Mommy.”

“So you didn’t only forget the rules, didn’t you whore?” She grabbed your hair and pulled your body up against her chest. “You also forgot what you are.”

She pushed you back into her desk and flipped you over, gripping your thighs and pushing them apart. You reached out for her with a moan, earning a smack to both your thighs. “Hands up, and keep them there.”

“Mommy,” You whined, gripping the other edge of the bed. The position made you feel exposed, Natasha’s eyes roaming all over your body with a hunger that only added to the growing heat between your legs. The redhead towered over you, one hand cupping your heat and the other coming up to wrap around your throat.

“You’re just my little play thing,” She said, inches away from your face. Her lips trailed wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck, teeth grazing your skin and making you squirm under her. Her fingers hooked into your underwear and pulled them down your legs before moving back to where it was and slipping two fingers into you without warning. “My stupid little toy.”

She moved her fingers art an unforgiving pace, making you whine and buck your hips up into her, arms aching to reach down and touch her. You arched your back off her desk, eyes rolling to the back of your head as her thumb moved onto your clit. 

“Are you gonna cum, my sweet thing?” She asked, tugging your earlobe between her teeth. You moaned, knuckles turning white gripping onto the desk. Natasha raised her head to look at your face, bringing her free hand to tug your bra down, revealing your breasts. “You’re gonna have to ask first.”

“Please, Mommy,” You desperately squirmed under her as she pinched your nippled between her thumb and index finger. “Please let me cum, I need it.”

“Oh you need it?” She asked, slowing down and bringing tears to your eyes. She was an expert on how your body worked, knowing exactly when to curl her fingers, when to pick her pace and when to slowly bring you closer to the edge. “Should’ve though about that before you decided to break the rules, princess.”

Unfortunately, that also meant she knew all your tells. You whined as she pulled her fingers out, curling your body up when her hand came down onto your pussy. She pulled your body up against her as you let the tears fall down your cheeks, wrapping your legs around her waist and trying to grind onto her hips. 

“Please, Mommy,” You grabbed onto her face, making her look at you. She wrapped her arms around your body, soothingly rubbing her hand up and down your back. “I’ll be good, I promise, please.”

“It’s too late for that, honey,” She pouted mockingly, pecking your lips and pulling you closer. She lifted your body off her desk and started making her way into her bedroom, mocking you as you cried in frustration. She laid you down onto her bed, shoving a pillow under your hips when she turned you onto your stomach. 

Natasha moved off the bed, pulling out the silk ties from the dresser before moving back to the bed, tightly tying your hands together then to the bed. She moved behind you, spanking your ass another few times, enough to make your skin sting. 

She coated her fingers with her saliva before pushing them into you once again, moving them fast and deep. She ignored your moans and whines, pushing your face harder against the soft mattress the more you whined. 

Natasha quickly worked you to the edge, over and over again. She used almost every toy she had by the time she was satisfied with the tear stains on your cheeks and the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth. 

She had already used you to make herself cum three times, between the other million times she edged you, and you finally thought she was gonna give you what you wanted, your entire body aching and trembling under the older woman.

“Have you learned your lesson, slut?” She asked, slowing her pace as you clenched around the thick cock strapped to her hips. You were incoherent at this point, head rolling to the side as you attempted to look back at her.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” You cried, tugging on the ropes on your wrists and pushing back into her. “I won‘t do it again, I promise Mommy.”

“Good girl,” She pulled the strap out, the toy completely soaked with your arousal. She got off the bed and moved to her bathroom, returning without the strap and with a damp cloth in her hand. You whined as she cleaned you up, extremely sensitive but also desperately needing a release.

“Mommy,” You whimpered as she turned you around, kissing up your neck as if she hadn’t just edged you until you cried. 

“I know baby, you want to cum,” She said, pulling back as she tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Too bad you won’t be doing that for a week.”

@blooodwords This is amazing! I really love the natural push and pull of their relationship and don't apologise for the plot it is so interesting!! I'm super excited for the next chapters (no rush💕) I am curious as to why Natasha doesn't touch the reader sexually though? Is it a personal preference or something else? Either way, best of luck with future writing endeavours!🥰

part 2 to gun smut?

i need to know why r is so fucky in the head 😭

a/n: yeah ok let's fuckin go. sorry to disappoint but this one does not actually include gunplay. and it's sorta plot heavy — i got a lil carried away. also please excuse any mistakes as it is long past my bedtime.

home of blood and bone.

RATING: E FOR EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ ... MINORS DNI).

PART ONE ... PART TWO.

natasha x fem!reader ; natasha pries her way into your past, into your biology, and into your future. and you let her.

warnings: nsfw, semi-explicit violence, explicit smut, knifeplay, lil bit of blood.

i do take requests but please give this a read before doing so!

a“How was the psych eval?”

Natasha Romanoff lingers in your doorway with a mug of coffee and a scowl.

“Thorough,” you tell her without looking up from your workbench. You’ve been toying with the grappling hook launch controls on your utility belt for the better part of an hour.

“Big man says you were difficult.”

You were not.

You’d make that clear if you cared, but you don’t. And if Tony Stark cared about your difficulties he’d pull you from the roster. Fact that you’ve got a seven am mission briefing the next day tells you everything you need to know.

A noncommittal noise falls from your lips to fill the silence.

Natasha steps into the room. The door clicks shut behind her. “Were you actually difficult?” Her tone softens. You don’t like that. “Or was it your charming brevity? I know talking’s not your favorite thing.”

In that moment you don’t like that she knows you and you really don't like that there isn’t a way to tell her as much without sounding like a grade-a asshole. Not that she would mind—you really doubt she would—but you’re still stuck on that pesky wanting to please her thing. It’s been seventy-two hours since the day in the jet and you still haven’t figured out a way to force her from your mind. And to think you used to be so good at pushing people away.

“Dunno, Nat,” you mumble, huffing. You push a torx driver a little too hard into a screw and the panel it secures sprouts a hairline crack. “Motherf—what more do you people want from me? I answered their questions.”

Natasha drops a tablet onto the workbench and taps the screen.

Security cam footage.

You grit your teeth and wish Natasha wasn’t over your shoulder, watching you watch this.

Conference room four.

An unremarkable woman in a pencil skirt sits across from you with a legal pad and a pen.

You’re stone-faced and still, hands clasped in your lap, looking right at her.

“Do you experience compulsive thoughts relating to the incident that took the lives of your parents?”

“No.”

“Do you suffer from nightmares about the incident that took the lives of your parents?”

“No.”

“Do you experience flashbacks to the incident? By this I mean—”

“I know what you mean. And no.”

“If something happens that reminds you of the incident, does it trigger an intense emotional response?”

Yes. Sometimes. But you’re careful not to show it.

“No.”

“Do you actively avoid things that remind you of the incident?”

“No.”

True. You tend to seek them out.

“Have you experienced generalized anxiety since the incident?”

“No.”

True enough.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“No.”

That one, at the very least, is only half a lie.

“Do you startle easily?”

“No.”

True.

“Do you feel that the—”

“Say the word incident one more time and I’m gonna flip my fucking lid. I don’t have PTSD.”

“What does that mean, ‘flip your lid?’”

“Get violent. I don’t know.”

“Are you stating that you intend to inflict violence upon me if I continue administering this evaluation?”

“No. I don’t—don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it.”

“Who does deserve it?”

Bullshit question.

She’s leading you.

It’s fine.

“Nobody at present,” you tell her.

“Who deserved it in the past?”

You shift in your seat, crossing your arms, trapping your hands between your elbows and ribs.

They already know. This lady, Tony, all of them. You don’t think there’s a single person on the compound who hasn’t read your file.

“Family.”

“Whose family?”

“Mine.”

“When you speak of your family do you include yourself?”

There it is.

You smile, mocking and sweet, and, “Obviously,” you say.

The video stops.

Natasha spins you around in your chair and clamps her hands on your shoulders. She’s the first person to touch your skin, your actual body, no barriers, since the day on the jet. All at once you wish you were wearing more than a tank top and wish she’d never stop touching you.

“By that logic,” she says, “your own logic, you deserve to be dead.”

“By the logic of all the world, actually,” you say, “yes. I should’ve been dead the day my family was. Don’t think it takes a professional to figure that out.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use so many words at once.”

You roll your eyes.

“Look at me,” Natasha says next, and doesn’t speak again until you do. “I know you’re fucked up—so am I. It sort of comes with being one of us. And—”

“Your point?”

“Don’t be a jackass,” she says, laying a firm pat on your cheek that feels more like a slap than you were expecting. “I’m trying to tell you that the deaths of your parents are in the past. It’s done. But the idea that you’re walking around wishing you were dead, too? Not okay.”

“Right.”

“We need you.”

“That so?”

It’s true enough.

Tony wouldn’t have recruited you if you weren’t valuable, if you couldn’t do things nobody else could. You’re so ingrained in the operations of the Avengers that at this point, yeah, they probably do need you. Teams are reliant on their members, and whether you like it or not the Avengers are the only people who haven’t kicked you to the curb the moment they found out what exactly is in your past.

It isn’t until Natasha says, “Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault, and you shouldn’t torture yourself over it,” that you realize how wrong you are.

Your eyes narrow.

In less than a millisecond you make a weighted decision.

Your hands knock hers from your shoulders. You need space between the two of you if you’re going to let this conversation unfold. You don’t want her that close when you confide, you don’t think you could handle watching her recoil.

“What do you know about the deaths of my parents?”

Natasha furrows her brow, says, “They were shot point-blank by a HYDRA rogue after refusing to turn over their research on genetic engineering.”

You don’t know why you want to tell her.

You know it’ll ruin everything.

But if Natasha doesn't know, who else is in the dark?

You don’t want to spend your time around a team that doesn’t even know the fundamentals of your history. You want them to know exactly what you are, and if after that they still want you to stay? You will.

“I was never a rogue,” you tell her, gritting your teeth, “and I was never HYDRA.”

Natasha steps back. “You—?”

“And they didn’t refuse to turn over anything.” Your voice is thickening, getting rough around the edges. “I didn’t even ask for it, I’d already seen it all.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

It isn’t pity that she’s looking at you with but you can’t place whatever it is and that alone makes you want to put your head through a wall.

“I’m saying that I was an experiment. Bred in a lab to be the perfect, indestructible child. You had the Red Room, I had the house I grew up in.”

“But” — she’s pacing, never getting any closer to you than where she started — “you aren’t indestructible. I know you aren’t.”

“They made a mistake in my genetic code. I can bleed if I want to, I can feel pain under the right circumstances, but I’m not sure that I can die. And—”

It clicks so plainly on her face.

“You want to find out,” Natasha finishes for you. She comes to a stop, studying you from across the room, and you can see her putting the pieces together like you’re right there in her mind. “You didn’t kill your parents. You killed your captors.”

“You killed Dreykov.”

“…Touché.”

/

“You altered my file. Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to walk in here as the mommy and daddy killer. Was I wrong?”

He wasn’t.

Mostly.

But.

“I thought everyone knew.”

“I know,” Tony says, and to his credit he does manage to look apologetic. “And you thought they accepted you anyway. Which they do, still, by the way. Now that they actually know.”

No matter how deep you dig you can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him. He only did what believed was best. For you and for the team. You know more than most what a decision of that caliber feels like.

“Right,” is all you say.

You turn to go.

“You’re taking Romanoff with you,” Tony says before you make it out the door, “on the Evora job. And on all jobs from here on out.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Stark.”

“Maybe not,” he says, “but good luck telling her that.”

/

Natasha’s behavior around you hasn’t changed.

You don’t know whether that’s because things are genuinely the same or because she wants you to think things are the same.

It’s hard to gauge whether it actually matters one way or the other.

“Guy calls himself Elemento.”

“Gross.”

“Yup,” Natasha says, “but he can bend the elements to his will.”

Your behavior around Natasha has changed, if only a little. You’re talking more. Mostly to fill the silences she leaves hanging in the air, the spats of quiet that make your head hurt.

“Bullets and martial arts won’t do much against that,” you say. “Offense a little intended.”

“Ouch.” She’s grinning. “You can’t be bent, however. I’m just backup.”

She’s right.

As usual.

You’re an experiment the elements can no longer touch. You put your ability to be altered to bed the day you shot your parents.

Elemento can’t bend you.

And he doesn’t.

His gift only works when he’s breathing.

You putting your hand through the skin of his throat and tearing out his windpipe takes care of that. The bullet between his eyes takes care of the rest.

Spilling Elemento’s blood across the white tile floor of his laboratory is the closest you’ve ever come to creating fine art. When it splashes across the front of your battle suit and freckles you in red you reckon it’s the most color you’ve worn since childhood.

Before his body hits the floor you’ve pulled his hard drive and crashed out through the nearest window.

It isn’t until you’ve got an arm around a rung of the rope ladder dangling from Natasha’s chopper that you realize you’re still holding onto the flesh you pulled from his neck.

You wait to ask your questions until Elemento and his ruined lab in Evora are six hours behind you and you’re mostly cleaned up, until Natasha’s found an itty-bitty hotel room to camp out in for the night.

“Why does Stark give me the messy assignments?”

“He trusts you,” Natasha says without looking up from a dime-store paperback she swiped from the front desk. “And you have considerably fewer morals about leaving loose ends.”

So that’s it.

“Right.”

You don’t say much for the rest of the day.

You just sit on the floor at the foot of the bed and think. Mostly about the fact that okay, yeah, you don’t think too much when it comes to killing the people Tony wants you to kill, and a little about the fact that Natasha doesn’t seem to mind the carnage. Whatever red she had in her ledger doesn’t keep her from letting you have your fun.

Funny word for what you do for the Avengers, that one. Fun.

You weren’t allowed much fun as a kid. Hell, you can barely call your upbringing a childhood.

Most of what you remember is being pricked for blood, being rolled under x-ray machines, withstanding test after test until your parents were satisfied with their creation. You remember asking to celebrate holidays, birthdays—anything—and being told no. You remember watching the neighborhood kids board the school bus every morning from your bedroom window and hating that you weren’t allowed to go to regular school with them. Most of those memories are laced with hate.

Makes sense that murder constitutes fun these days.

“Hey.”

You pull yourself out of your thoughts.

The window’s gone dark.

Natasha has the bedside lamp on, casting a dim yellow glow across the little room, and she’s right there with you, dangling her head off the end of the bed and peering at you with affectionate amusement.

“You’ve been in your head for hours,” she tells you. “It’s four am.”

“Oh.”

“Come to bed.”

You look down at your clothes: gray tactical pants splattered with blood, boots caked in dust and dirt, sweat-stained tank top clinging to your chest. Off in the corner your battle jacket lies crumpled in a heap.

“I should shower.”

You wait until the water’s scalding before stepping in.

When you get out your skin’s red and warm and in the foggy mirror you notice a gash along the length of your forearm. It doesn’t need stitches but you figure Natasha’s going to say something about it anyhow.

She does.

“That hurt?”

“No.”

“Did you clean it?”

“Are you always such a mom?”

“My sister would say yes.”

You dress in a spare tee and a pair of sweats with the gaudy Avengers logo on the hip.

There’s only one bed.

You crawl in and lay still on your back.

Natasha props herself up on an elbow and studies you.

“You said you can bleed when you want to, and feel pain under the right circumstances. What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means.”

“Elaborate,” she says.

“Later.”

“Fine.”

She kills the lamp.

It takes her ten minutes to decide to slip a hand over your bicep and squeeze. Another five to tuck her leg up over your hip. When you don’t move she finds your hand and pulls it to her thigh, and, “Just—there,” she mumbles against your ear. You squeeze, she hums.

Eventually, you don’t know how long—you lost track of the minutes as soon as she invited you to touch her—Natasha’s lips find your skin. She leaves soft kisses along your jaw, slow and steady, until she finds your lips and licks into your mouth with a gentle curiosity that distracts you enough not to notice the hand slipping under your shirt until Natasaha’s nails bite into your skin.

For a moment you want to ask what this is, what the time on the jet was. You push the thought away as Natasha swings a leg over your hips, mounts you, and leans over to flick the lamp on.

“I want to try something,” she says, peeling your shirt off, grazing her fingertips over your sternum and down your stomach. Then she pulls a knife on you, a little folding one that snaps open with a satisfying click. The sound itself is enough to light a fire deep in your core.

You don’t nod. You don’t speak. You just smile, dreamy and expectant, because while it isn’t a loaded gun it does still excite you.

Natasha sets the blade at the base of your throat, and, “I want you to bleed,” she says, brows raising. “Can you do that for me?”

You can. Even though you can hear your heart thudding in your ears and you can feel the scorching tingle of arousal as it shoots down your spine, you can do it.

The knife follows the path her fingers took only moments ago: over your chest, between your breasts, along the divot between the muscles of your stomach. In its path little droplets of blood sprout before your eyes, painting you red for the second time that day. Natasha wipes the blade on the sheets and drags her fingers over the thin wound, smearing blood across your skin.

A moment passes in silence, you watching Natasha while she inspects the slice she put into you. In that moment your heart picks up, thundering against your ribcage, and you know she can feel it just as easily as she can see the heavy rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rhetorical—she’s smirking. “No blood this time. I don’t even want to break your skin.”

You have to think about it for a moment, tunnel way back into the corners of your mind to find the switch that kills your pain receptors and fortifies the density of your skin, but you can do it. You’d only practiced finding and hitting that switch under the clinical observation of your parents a thousand times as a child. It used to take you hours—this time it takes only seconds.

When the blade slides over your skin this time, nothing happens. Not even a scratch.

“Like a butter knife against marble,” Natasha mumbles.

You can’t tell if she’s studying you as a whole or just the cut and the would-be one. At least she hasn’t said anything about the fact that you’ve fought by her side time and again and not once has she ever seen you refuse a wound. Surely it means something, to her or whichever psychologist Tony has on retainer this month, that you choose to let yourself get hurt when things come to blows, but you think it’s hardly the time to dwell on that.

The knife clatters onto the bedside table.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing her palm against your abdomen, grazing her nails over the firm muscles she finds there. “Although I’m absolutely certain you don’t need an apology. Still—not every day I hurt one of my own on purpose.”

“One of your own, huh?”

She rolls her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here to keep an eye on you if I didn’t care.”

“You sure it isn’t just so you can get into my pants again?”

“All I have to do is smile at you to accomplish that.”

“Touché.”

Natasha smiles.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to meet her halfway as she ducks down to kiss you. The taste of her tongue is second only to the taste of her cunt, and you consider yourself lucky to know the taste of both.

Doesn’t take much more than a heavy hand of yours slipping down between her legs and cupping her through her little sleep shorts to convince Natasha to let you have her. You get her out of her bottoms and push your fingers through slick lips, pushing her wetness around with your fingertips before sinking into her in one fluid motion.

You almost ask her if it’s good, if it’s enough, but her eyes rolling skyward, her fingertips pressing into your skin, and her back arching as she rolls her hips against your hand tell you all you need to know. She’s warm and wet and tight around your fingers as you stroke her from the inside, practically coaxing her wetness out of her cunt and into the palm of your hand.

“Good?” You ask anyway because even with the pleasure written on her face you still value a verbal confirmation.

“Good,” Natasha says, nodding.

Before you can say anything else she slips an arm around your neck and rolls onto her back, pulling you right down on top of her with your hips nestled between her thighs and your hand trapped between your bodies.

“Better,” she says, smirking up at you. “Fuck me like this—like you mean it.”

“Easy,” you tell her, because it is, because you really do mean it.

You thrust your fingers into Natasha’s warm cunt while she mouths at your throat, sinking her teeth into the soft spot where she finds your pulse, sucking a bruise into your skin that you know will linger for days, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so eager to wear a mark before. And you’re still bleeding, smudges of blood on your chest staining Natasha’s shirt from where she presses up against you, but you don’t care, and you don’t think she does either.

Notching your hips against the back of your hand and using the steady grind to fuck your fingers into her helps, makes it feel a little like what you’d guess a biological male might feel in this situation, holding yourself above Natasha with an arm that’s starting to cramp while you push into her. You’d watch if you could, you reckon the sight of your fingers disappearing into her clenching hole is a mighty fine one, but she’s palming at your breasts, teasing your nipples, and her arms are in the way. You settle for slipping a third finger into her cunt, stretching her open, grunting happily as she keens into your ear and gushes around your fingers.

“I wish I had your stamina,” she mutters through a yawn, pushing her hands through your hair as you crawl down her body, settling on your belly between her legs. “You aren’t going to let me sleep yet, are you?”

You give your answer by burying your face in her cunt, licking through her lips, grazing your teeth over her sensitive clit, and drinking her in. She tastes better than you remember: heady and intense and entirely Natasha. You hum against her, prop one of her legs over your shoulder, and coast your hands along her thighs. She’s warm to the touch and warm against your tongue and if it weren’t nearing five o’clock in the morning you’d spend all the time in the world right here.

But because it is nearing five o’clock you spend maybe ten minutes between Natasha’s legs, licking into her leaking hole until she tenses and trembles and spills onto your tongue. By the time you wipe your mouth on the sheets and crawl up to her side she’s barely awake, but, “Thanks,” she mumbles, draping an arm across your middle and leaving a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “For not shutting me out.”

Natasha falls asleep tucked up against your side and by the time she’s snoring softly against your shoulder you’ve decided that, whatever the circumstances, whatever the mission, having someone tag along to babysit you isn’t the worst thing in the world at all when that person is Natasha.

And, for what it's worth, you're glad you haven't figured out how to push her away.

kotenok part. ten

the team goes on a small vacation upstate, you and natasha enjoy yourself, and conversation amongst the team are made.

older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader

warnings: major age gap, mommy kink, fingering, squirting, wanda is a jealous bitch, awkward situations.

series masterlist

The sun shone on you like a glow that made your skin tingle. You smiled at the feeling, warmth replacing the ache and break in your heart from the breakdown you had a week ago.

You suppose it’s over now. Natasha was with you and so was the team. However much you despised them for their reluctance about your relationship with the older woman, their company at the cabin was something you admired.

It felt like a family outing.

Like everything was normal.

And as you sat on the edge of the pool in your red bikini, feet saturated in the water below you, chuckles from Peter and MJ echoed in your head. In the far distance, from the in pool bar, you could hear chatter from Tony and Rhodey.

It was the many moments with the team where everyone gathered. You were thankful everyone found a day off where the world didn’t need saving to travel up north of New York to the expensive little cottage Tony owned.

With the whole team invited, you carried on with your tanning as you watched them through your pink tinted sunnies perched up on the bridge of your nose.

“You having fun?”

You turned around to find your red headed girlfriend smiling at you. The older woman, mocking your outfit, but in a black bikini with a sarong wrapped about her waist, sat comfortably on her lounge chair with a book in her hand.

You smiled. Then softly nodded. “Are you?”

The older woman shrugged, and then sat up. Perched up on her shoulders, her eyes trailed from you to her friends who were in the pool.

“It’s hot.”

You giggled. “It is. I feel like I’m getting roasted out here.”

Natasha’s lips quirked up into a grin, her eyes now fully focused on you as you stared at her through your sunnies. She chuckled along with you and then whipped her head back to look into the cottage.

She contemplated it for a moment and you quirked a brow at your girlfriend, curious to what she was thinking.

“Wanna settle in our room for a moment? It’s colder in there.” There was an implication in her sultry tone but you knew her all too well. Natasha was insinuating more than what she intended and you saw through her.

She apparently caught on to your gaze, smiling as the gears worked through in your head. She smiled, setting her book down with the bookmark apparent for her to see.

“No funny business.”

You smiled. Unsure of her promise, not that it was one in the first place but you knew there was always something more.

You stood up from the pool, a grin present on your lips as water cascades down your thighs. And as you inched yourself towards your lover, a hand out for her to take, she sat up from her chair and took it.

Leading you inside the house, the cold air hits the both of you with surprise, your nipples blossom with ease but Natasha turn to get a glimpse. Instead, the both of you pad your way down the hallway until you found the room where you and her are suppose to stay.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the eyes of a certain Sokovian from the other end of the pool, watched as the two of you disappeared.

When you and Natasha find yourself all alone in your shared room, you find her words correct as the air dries the droplets of water on your skin.

She’s attached to you the moment the door clicks shut. Her skin is abnormally cold, and it rises goosebumps on your own as sweeps hair away from your neck.

“I can’t wait for tonight’s bonfire.” You admit it through a soft whisper, your eyes focusing on the eccentric decor of the room, attempting to distract yourself from Natasha’s lips against the nape of your neck.

She hums, carefully and gently in response. “I’m sure we’ll have fun. Have you enjoyed the vacation so far?”

You gave her a nod, a smile presenting itself on your lips in genuine content. It had been a while. You hadn’t felt this happy since you and Natasha made it official. You found a family and they found you. It was all working together, even if it wasn’t perfect. It was all here.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

Her hand snuck around your waist and to your front, slender fingers and cherry red painted nails gently scraped the front of your tummy.

“That’s good, kotenok. I’m glad.”

Natasha was relentlessly with her teasing, but somehow, she managed to work her way through it with small talk about the cottage. And as she dipped her hand under your red bikini bottom, she asked you about how you felt about hiking.

You frowned, then bit your lip when Natasha found out you were shaven bare underneath as she slightly paused in her touch.

“I don’t like walking.” She smiled against your neck, then moved up to nip your lobe before her finger dip to swirl the pads of her fingertips against your clit. You whimpered, your head lulling back against Natasha’s shoulder where she welcomed you.

“I know you don’t, baby.” She cooed against your ear, feigning a conversation as her finger now travelled further south to smear your arousal over your cunt.

If anyone could see the two of you, it would be a sin. The sight of you settled on Natasha’s lap, legs parted with the obvious sight of the older woman’s hand between your legs and down your bottoms, fingers sawing back and forth as she fingered you, hell would let lose.

You felt ashamed. Not of your relationship but that you left your friends and family out in the pool to be a slut with your girlfriend. Though, you’re sure no one could blame you. With the older woman sitting behind you, she was an insatiable thing.

You adored her. Adored how she couldn’t get enough of you. Adored how she worshipped your body as if it were the only one out there. Compared to Natasha’s, you were a small, petite, and meek girl. Compared to her’s, she had legs of a super model, abs of a swimmer, and creamy clear skin of that a whiteboard.

You weren’t jealous. You didn’t envy your girlfriend. It was something you could never do. But you do wonder from time to time, how a woman such as her, mature and grown, could find fulfillment in someone like you.

Perhaps that’s what some of the team thought. The age gap. The taboo of it all. The media hasn’t found out yet. You and her were careful. Even while out in the city, the media had only dubbed the two of you as bestest of friends. You could only laugh at the pictures.

You didn’t mind. You had Natasha all to yourself. Even if it were just within the walls of the tower, you and her were content. Even if they really did think the two of you were gal pal’s. Best friends don’t finger each other the way she had been doing.

And as Natasha nuzzled her nose against your cheek, holding your firm against her front, you could feel her breasts press up firmly against your back. Her taunt nipples chafing against her bikini top, touching your back like they were teasing you.

So, you bucked your hip and wiggled your hips against her. She grinned and then nipped the thin skin of your pulse.

“My insatiable little girl.” Her voice was sultry in tone, almost like honey. “Mommy’s fingers not enough?”

Your breath was shaky when you spoke. “Y-You just feel so good, mommy.”

Natasha smiled and you felt it against your cheek as she pressed her face against yours. You had fallen deep as she pumped her fingers in and out, and turns out she had too as both of your breathing had synced in tow of your orgasm.

And that was the thing about the older woman. She took pleasure in your pleasure. She always made sure you were satisfied, always taken care of. You always attempted to return the gesture, sometimes fingering her with her praises, and sometimes eating her out when she was still asleep.

But it had always been you.

To Natasha, there was nothing more important than you. She made to show you that through everything she did. Even if others despised her for it. You were everything.

“You’re so tight, kotenok.” She said it through a hiss. “God, you’re such a pretty girl for me, baby.”

You flushed under her words which caused her chuckle.

“It’s true, dekta. It’s all you.” You whimpered when she curled her fingers, and she even mocked your little whine when she fastened her hand. “Let go, honey. Let go. It’s just me.”

When you shook and cried in her hold, hips bucking in tow, Natasha held you through the way until her fingers soaked and dripping. The squelching sound filling your ears before you laid limp in her arms as you finished.

“There we go, kotenok.”

You whimpered when you felt her fingers leave you, feeling empty, you squirmed in her lap and sighed.

“It’s still hot.”

Natasha chuckled and helped you sit up. Her cheeks, now a crimson red, stared at you as you peered up at her from where you sat.

“Let’s go wash off then.” You raised a brow at her suggestion. “For real this time. No funny business.”

She helped you stand, legs wobbly as the two of you walked into the large shower. Tony really did outdo himself with the cottage. It was beautiful and lush. Eccentric but still modern in a sense.

And as the two of you stood under the shower, Natasha kept to her promise.

Chatter echoed against your ear, your lips curled into a smile, your body curled against Natasha’s lap, while her hands were curled against yours.

You smiled when she sat her chin on the top of your head, occasionally pulling away to get a sip of her beer which almost made you jealous and out of place as everyone had a glass in their hand. Even Peter as he sat close with MJ.

But you didn’t mind. You didn’t need to be intoxicated to enjoy what was happening. That was, Tony telling a story of that one time where Steve asked him what was an OnlyFans, as he was approached by a fan once asking that he should create once.

The whole group fell into a fit of laughter, making you smile as you watched the scene unfold. It was a story that you hadn’t heard of. It had happened way before you even joined the team, but it was a story that you were going to cherish like a memory.

The scene in front of you made you feel warm and all giddy inside. It felt odd. It was one of those rare occasions where you could feel happy without worry, without any fear or stress. Those moments where it was just you and your favourite people in the world.

You smiled as Tony made large and dramatic hand movements, falling deeper into Natasha’s hold. Rhodey eventually got him to settle down, making the billionaire to roll his eyes in tow while Pepper scolded him for being so loud.

The moment was wonderful. And when the group fell back into its comfortable silence, you sighed and snuggled close to Natasha’s arms.

Tony caught your gaze and he smiled. “Feeling cozy, Romanoff?”

You heard Natasha hum beneath you but you also watched her roll her eyes at Tony’s teasing antics. You were cozy, both of you were and you couldn’t help but grin at Tony’s question in response.

“Where did you two go off this afternoon?”

He was talking about when Natasha suggested the two of you cool off in your shared room. Which turned from cooling off to two fingers, knuckles deep inside of you, the comment made you flush under the fire’s warmth.

“We cooled off.” Natasha said it ever so simple with a face that said nothing at all. Her emerald striking eyes staring at Tony.

It was all fun and games.

Until Wanda spoke up with a nerving comment.

“Didn’t sound like it was just cooling off.”

The silence now became uncomfortable and you frowned in return, your eyes looking over at your friends who’s gaze were settled on the wooden deck.

Natasha settled uncomfortably under you and repositioned you on her lap. She scoffed and turned to Wanda.

“What makes it your business, Maximoff?” Natasha’s tone was firm and irritated, it held an octave lower than usual and her grip on you was tighter.

You frowned and turned, smushing your face against her breasts to hide away from the embarrassment.

“How about we settle down—”

“It’s my business when the two of you are always sneaking off to fuck.” Wanda’s voice was much louder and you couldn’t help but cower under her tone. “This is supposed to be a family event. A team thing. But you two can’t keep it in your pants for at least five fucking days.”

“Wanda.” Steve’s voice echoes against the silence and you see him with a glare harder than you’ve ever seen. Your eyes bat from the captain to the Sokovian witch. “Keep it to yourself. Natasha and Y/n are minding their own business. They’re in a happy and wonderful relationship and I suggest you keep your words to yourself unless you want to be sent home.”

“Tasha...”

The redhead snuggled close to you, both of you watching the scene unfold as Steve looks at the younger woman across from him. It’s all awkward, the topic of your relationship with Natasha was one that wasn’t usually brought up as it caused rifts in the team, but seeing one of the many few people stand up for the both of you? Something ached in your chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and within the writhing moments as she stood, she left and disappeared into the house.

The fire crackling settled the silence in the air, the warm auburn glow from the heat made you frown at how the night had been ruined. You shook your head and sat up from your seat, jerking Natasha to attention.

You smiled at the woman, pecked her lips and moved away from her lap. “I’ll be back.”

Her brows furrowed but before she was able to protest, you had slipped away into the darkness.